


Curt's Main Man

by saraid



Series: Velvet Goldmine series [4]
Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3907513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saraid/pseuds/saraid





	Curt's Main Man

"Hey, slug‑a‑bed." 

 

"Mrphm." Turning over and clutching a pillow to his chest, Arthur tried to ignore his lover's voice, but Curt bounced on the bed beside him, making it jostle. Arthur pulled the pillow over his head, holding it there with both arms.

 

"C'mon, lover, it's a beautiful day, let's be outside. It's early, there won't be anyone else around..." The husky voice dropped and the second half of the sentence was whispered into his ear as Curt burrowed under the pillow with him, lying alongside him, an arm around his waist.

 

"Why don't we just stay in, then?" Arthur turned his head to ask, and found himself only inches from Curt's smiling mouth.

 

"Because it wouldn't be the same." The other man said, flinging the pillow aside and gathering Arthur up for a deep, hungry kiss. "I have a plan for today."

 

"A plan?" Grinning rather goofily, Arthur gazed up at him as he was rolled to his back and Curt covered his Arthur's body with his own, fingertips just grazing the dark‑haired man's chin.

 

"Yeah. We're gonna go for a walk and when we get back I'm going to use the phone." 

 

"The phone?" Still bleary after their rambunctious activities of the night before, it took Arthur a moment to understand the importance of the words. Then he remembered what had happened over a week ago and half‑sat, reaching for his lover, to hold Curt as tightly as Curt was holding him. "Are you sure?"

 

"What's the worst they can do? I think the shock treatment was pretty much the limit there." Giving him a quick, brutally hard kiss that belied his apparent calm, the blond man freed himself and rolled off the bed. "You've gotta be at work this morning, hurry your ass up."

 

"Do you want me here when you do it?"

 

Pausing in the doorway, his eyes wide with well‑concealed fear, Curt shook his head. 

 

"Walk with me. Hold my hand." He flashed a trademark grin that faded quickly. "Then go to work and I'll do it by myself."

 

Climbing out of the bed more slowly, Arthur nodded, unsure what to say. He didn't want to push Curt into doing something that would hurt him. Especially so soon after the humiliating visit from Tommy Stone. Actually, he was still waiting for an explosion over that one. Everything he'd learned about Curt over the past few months had taught him that his lover was volatile, which he had known, and that he tended to respond to fear and pain by lashing out, which was understandable, given his history. But waiting for it was wearing on Arthur's nerves. 

 

Maybe this time it wouldn't happen. Curt seemed to have come to grips with Brian's betrayals, all of them, and had made an effort to laugh off the threats his ex‑lover had brought into their home. It wasn't like any of the pictures were revealing or anything. Or even that they were planning to do anything to prompt Stone to publicize them. It didn't really feel like blackmail when you weren't going to do it anyhow.

 

A quick shower and shave, then he was dressed and Curt was waiting outside on the stoop. A couple of doors down one of their upwardly mobile neighbors, a friendly fellow named John, waved at them, then kissed his small daughter goodbye and headed off for Wall Street or wherever it was he made his yuppie money.

 

"Good article, Arthur!" He shouted as he climbed into his car, and Arthur waved back, bemused. He hadn't been here long before he started learning the names of the neighbors, greeting them, trying to be friendly. Curt had lived here for nearly five years and hadn't known any of them. Another symptom of the reclusive shyness he hid so well, Arthur knew.

 

"Bakery." Curt said firmly, grabbing Arthur's hand in his own and holding it tightly as they started to walk. In this upper‑class suburb, in the process of gentrification, they could do this without anyone commenting. It was beginning to feel like home and Arthur was starting to be happy here. 

 

A half‑dozen chocolate sour cream cake donuts later and they were almost back at the house. Arthur sipped milk from a carton while Curt chugged cola with his sugar, making Arthur wince. The blond was going to be hyper‑ buzzed.

 

At the door Curt stopped, turning to him.

 

"Go to work."

 

Hesitating, Arthur stepped up a step, which still left Curt one above him, and taller than he. Tilting his face, he invited a kiss.

 

"This is what ye want?" He asked, seeing the worry in his lover's eyes.

 

"Yeah." Curt rasped, reaching for him with one hand, the other holding the remainder of their breakfast. He pulled Arthur in closer and nuzzled his cheek. "I can be a grown up about this. If they don't want to talk to me I'll be disappointed, but I'll handle it." he smiled widely and dropped another hard kiss to Arthur's closed lips. "I'll still have you, right?"

 

"You'll still have me, yes." Arthur sighed, wishing they could step inside so that he could reassure Curt more completely. But the other man seemed determined to do this on his own. "Lou will have a heart attack if I get there this early."

 

"Stop for coffee." Curt advised, moving away from him, key going into the door.

 

"You'll call me ‑ after?" With his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, Arthur waited for an answer. It was a few minutes coming.

 

"Yeah." Unwillingly, Curt promised. "I'll call you." 

 

"Ta, love." Grinning again, Arthur reached over and patted Curt's ass gently before turning away and jogging down the stairs, his lover watching him go and smiling.

 

*** 

 

 

Sitting at his desk, Arthur was deeply engrossed in the columns of figures he was studying, typing rapidly with one had while he held the documents with the other, eyes flicking between the screen and papers quickly enough to make someone dizzy if they weren't used to it.

 

His last two series of reviews had been well‑received and he had been rewarded with the chance to do a little investigative reporting, trying to write up a comparison between the required sewer tax and the amount the city claimed to have spent repairing old sewer facilities and building new ones. So far they didn't match too well.

 

"Arthur." 

 

He turned, startled. Lou was standing in his doorway, and the older man looked concerned. Worried, even. He held a newspaper, folded, to his side.

 

"Yes?" Quickly reviewing his memory, he couldn't think of anything that would upset his editor and friend. "Is everything alright?"

 

"No, I don't think so." Saying those words, Lou stepped in and shut the office door. Because it was such a small room and he didn't like being blocked away from the sounds of the office, Arthur almost never shut it. This made him nervous. He stood, facing Lou over his desk.

 

"What's wrong?" It took an effort to keep his voice even. What was it? His job? Had Stone made more threats? Carried out on them? Maybe it was Lou's wife or *his* job....

 

"George brought this to me. Stephanie picked it up at the grocery store this morning." Unfolding the paper, which Arthur saw was a tabloid and not an actual paper, he laid it flat on Arthur's desk. "Is it true?"

 

The Englishman picked it up with shaking hands.

 

"I've got to call Curt.."

 

There, on the front page, in grainy black‑and‑white, was a large picture of the two of them, kissing, on the sidewalk. The night of the company dinner, he realized. the pictures Stone had taken....The central picture was surrounded by others, the two of them holding hands, walking, embracing on the front steps of the brownstone.

 

The headline was two inches high and very pleased with itself.

 

"GAY PUNK STAR FINDS BRITISH BOYFRIEND IRRESISTIBLE!"

 

The copy under it was loud and rude as well.

 

"Seventies punk star, glam rocker Curt Wyld, who faded from the spotlight after a five‑ year party of sex, drinking, and drugs, has surfaced recently in New York City, where he owns a pub and has recently been spotted with his new boyfriend, investigative reporter Arthur Stewart of the Herald. Wyld was best know for his onstage antics, which included stripping, masturbating and screaming incoherently."

 

The story said it was continued inside, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to look. 

 

"Oh Christ." Sitting back in his chair, he reached for the phone, his hand fumbling, but Lou stopped him, touching his shoulder.

 

"Is it true? is that who he is? We all thought he was someone we should recognize..."

 

"*Yes*." Arthur growled. "He's going to be livid. I need to call him ‑ no," He stood, reaching for his jacket, "I need to go home!"

 

"This could be embarrassing for the paper." Lou said. "I'll try some damage control, you go home and make sure he's okay. I could tell he was special to you, but he seemed withdrawn at the party. It's hard to imagine him doing the things they say he did."

 

"Oh, he did them." Arthur said, distracted, shutting down the computer. "I was there, I saw them."

 

"You were there?" Lou looked surprised. "At one of his concerts?"

 

Facing him, Arthur grimaced.

 

"When I was seventeen I left home, to get away from my dad. I spent the next three years living in London. I worked with a glitter rock band called the Flaming Creatures. I met Curt. I was there the night Brian staged the shooting. I didn't just remember, Lou. I was there." His words were apologetic and yet defiant.

 

"You were there..." 

 

"I'll be in tomorrow to finish this." Arthur said, moving past him.

 

"Arthur! Why didn't you tell me?!" Lou's angry voice called after him, and Arthur regretted having been less than honest with him.

 

Because I was trying to forget, he answered silently in his mind, running for the subway station, uncaring of the spectacle he was presenting. I was trying to forget that I had loved someone.

 

***

 

 

"Curt? Curt!"

 

Slamming in through the foyer, Arthur stopped, startled, when he saw his lover.

 

Lying on the sofa, drinking a beer, CNN playing on the telly.

 

He looked peaceful and less than sober.

 

"Arthur?" Sitting up, Curt looked at him, confused. "What are you doing home? I said I would call you."

 

"Did ‑" Swallowing, Arthur went closer, feeling the weight of the tabloid he had grabbed from his desk inside his jacket pocket. "Did you call them, then?"

 

Curt looked away, drank another swallow of his beer.

 

"Yeah." 

 

"What did they say?" Sitting on the sofa beside him, Curt scooting over to make room, Arthur put his hand on his lover's chest, over his heart.

 

"It was interestin'. My mom answered. Still the same phone number, I kinda thought they might have changed it. Or moved or something." He seemed thoughtful.

 

"What did she say, love?"

 

"She said she was glad to hear from me. That she had been thinking about me. That she wondered where I was. If I was okay."

 

"That's lovely." An honest smile broke across Arthur's face. “What did you say?"

 

"I told her I was fine. That I have a nice house, and a business. That I don't do most of that stuff anymore."

 

"And?" Sliding up the sofa, Arthur shifted to pull Curt into his arms and the other man came willingly, laying his head on Arthur's chest.

 

"She asked if I was seeing anyone."

 

Stroking the shaggy hair, Arthur waited for him to tell the rest in his own time. It took a few minutes, Curt's heart was beating wildly, his composure only surface‑deep.

 

"I said I was still gay, if that's what she meant."

 

Kissing the top of his head, Arthur held him more tightly, and got a kiss to his chest in return.

 

"She said she knew that. That she'd been thinking about it for a long time, and she knew I wasn't going to change."

 

"What did ye say to that?"

 

"I said I was in love with a really nice guy."

 

More silence. Closing his eyes, Arthur wished a thousand horrible things to happen to Tommy Stone.

 

"Just a nice guy?" He tried to joke, but his voice broke.

 

"I think she wanted to say she was sorry." Curt ignored it, but his hands stroked Arthur's sides warmly. "I think she understands, maybe."

 

"Ah, love." Wrapping himself more tightly around him, Arthur couldn't find anything to say. Curt lifted his head and kissed him gently, then with more eagerness.

 

"Arthur? What are you doing home?" He asked, shifting to lay on top of him.

 

"Tell you later, love." He said, reaching to pull him up so they could kiss hungrily. "I'm glad your mum was nice to you."

 

"Not as nice as you're gonna be." Allowing himself to be distracted, Curt grinned wickedly and started unbuttoning Arthur's shirt. The jacket was in the way and he tugged at it, and Arthur pulled away a bit, sliding it off and dropping it to the floor, the tabloid landing face‑down beside the sofa. Curt, still grinning, kissed him again and started working on his jeans. He got them both stripped in short order and Arthur lay back and held him and kissed him and whispered quiet words of love as Curt dug in the sofa for the lube and then prepared him.

 

"I love you." Curt groaned as he pushed in, Arthur's legs spread wide, one on the back of the sofa, the other stretched to the floor. "God, I *love* you!"

 

"Yes." Arthur panted, filled, stretched, completely accepting him.

 

Alcohol never seemed to affect Curt's performance, and he made this one last, leaning over Arthur, kissing him, sucking on his neck, mumbling into his ear about how wonderful Arthur was, how good he felt, how happy he made Curt. Driven to distraction, Arthur gave up on having Curt take care of him and reached between them to stroke himself, arching into the slow, deep thrusts, moaning when Curt's lips left his, willing ‑ happy ‑ to lie back and be taken with love and tenderness and enthusiasm.

 

"Gonna come...." Curt moaned, lifting himself off of Arthur, settling back onto his knees, hips thrusting forward more forcefully. "Oh God Arthur, I'm gonna come ‑ you feel so fucking good ‑"

 

"Yes, come..." Arthur panted, sliding his free hand down to press against his own perineum, feeling the bulk of Curt's large cock as it slid in and out of him. "Come in me, love, come on..."

 

He was so close, just wanted to hang on until Curt came, wanted to feel Curt hot inside him, feel his seed oozing out on his own ass after they were dressed and eating lunch....

 

"Christ!" Curt moaned, hands gripping Arthur's ass, lifting it, no doubt leaving bruises. "Go, go!" He urged, and then he was shuddering, cock jumping in Arthur's ass and his lover could feel it, the heat of him, pumping liquid love into his ass, filling him. It was more than enough and Arthur rocked and shuddered silently through his own orgasm, to finally collapse from the arch his body had achieved, pulling Curt down on top of himself, feeling the big cock slip free and wrapping his arms around the other man, holding him tight.

 

"Aye, love, beautiful..." He sighed, drowsy and drifting.

 

 

They lay, held close, for a good half hour, until Curt shifted and muttered.

 

"Fucking chest hair is gonna glue us together." He sat up, grinning despite the complaint.

 

"We need a shower." Arthur said, grinning back, the tabloid headline forgotten. As Curt was climbing off the couch the phone rang and Arthur reached for it, his head turned away from his lover when Curt stepped over the leather jacket, trying to avoid it, and then slipped, unbalanced, and went down ungracefully on his naked ass, the jacket shooting out from beneath a foot that caught it.

 

"’Allo?" Arthur grunted, still not completely recovered from the mind‑blowing sex.

 

"Arthur Stewart? This is Doug Randolph from the New York Times, can we get a conformation on a story, please? Call it a professional court‑"

 

The voice was cut off abruptly when Curt slapped his hand down on the cradle, disconnecting it.

 

"Is this why you came home early?" He held the front page of the tabloid, slightly torn from its battle with the jacket, and dangled it in front of Arthur's eyes.

 

Eyes that closed in pain.

 

"Yes." Unable to lie to his lover, Arthur was equally incapable of looking at him.

 

"Ah." The lack of emotion in the husky voice could not be a good sign. When Arthur opened his eyes, the phone slipping from his grasp, he saw that Curt was staring at the wall over his head.

 

"Curt, love..."

 

"Don't call me that." With an abrupt, violent movement the other man lunged from the floor and glared down at him. "I knew getting involved with you was a bad idea! I knew this was going to end up with me getting hurt! I *always* get hurt!" he bellowed the words and Arthur actually flinched, expecting a blow. "Get out! Get out of my house, get out of my life!" Curt roared, arms in the air, and Arthur moved away, quickly, not quite scrambling.

 

"I won't!" He yelled back, defiant. "This is my home too! You invited me ta live here, I won't let ye kick me out!"

 

"It's *my* house!"

 

"I love you!" Managing to stand without stumbling, Arthur stepped forward, into Curt's anger, though it frightened him.

 

"I don't *need* you." Curt growled, watching him with narrowed eyes. His arms dropped to his sides. "I don't need *this*." He stomped on the newspaper and spat upon it.

 

"Curt...it's not that big a deal, we can get through it..." Pleading, Arthur took a step forward.

 

"I need a fix." Curt snarled. "You wanna be here when I get back, *fine*. Keep the fuck outta my fucking bedroom."

 

With no more than that he turned and left, and Arthur, too shocked to register what had just happened, what Curt had just said, stared after him for long moments.

 

 

Then he sat back down, picked up the phone, and started making some calls. There were favors he could call in, he had friends who could write the real story, maybe they would want the chance at an interview....

 

 

It was well into the next morning when he woke, finding himself sleeping sprawled on the couch, stiff and sore. 

 

"Curt?" He called, but he knew inside that his lover was not home. The phone rang, beside his head, he'd moved the coffee table over to make answering it easier, and now he picked it up gingerly, as if it might bite. Many of the calls they had received last night had been horrid, vicious and nasty, hatred oozing from them as Curt's come oozed from his body, the way he had wanted it to. "Eklp?" He mumbled, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Ello?"

 

"Arthur." It was Lou, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "You sound terrible. Are you okay?"

 

"No." He said, and realized then that he felt like crying. He hadn't cried in so long. "Curt's gone."

 

"He left you?" There was sympathy in that voice, and worry too.

 

"I don't know." 

 

"I talked to the bosses. They're not pleased, but it's publicity, at least. They want the two of you to do an interview for the people and places column."

 

"I don't know if there is a two of us anymore." It was getting harder to hold back the tears, his throat felt like it was swollen.

 

"Do you need something? Should I come over?" 

 

"No." Arthur choked out. "No, he'll ‑ he'll come back. He wouldn't like to find anyone else here."

 

"Look, Arthur," Lou sounded fatherly. "I'll schedule you for a few days of down time, and call you again tomorrow, okay? You should get some rest. He ‑ he loves you, we could all see that."

 

It was clear that the words were hard for the man to say and Arthur appreciated the effort, knowing as much as he did about Lou's middle‑class Midwestern baptist upbringing.

 

"Okay." He sniffed and hung up the phone, then lay down on the sofa and let himself cry, just as he had that day his father came upstairs and broke down his door and shouted at him for wanking. It wasn't a manly thing to do, but he needed it, his heart needed it. Arthur cried himself back to sleep.

 

 

"Arthur? Aw, babe, 'm sorry..."

 

Something warm and wet touched Arthur's face and he sniffed, his nose feeling stuffy. His eyes itched and he didn't want to open them, awakening slowly as someone ‑ Curt? ‑ gently bathed his face.

 

He was curled tightly into the end of the sofa and his back ached, protesting the position, but he didn't move to ease it, actually tried to pull further into himself, feeling completely unready and unwilling to deal with his lover's fragile emotional state right now.

 

"I came back." Curt leaned close to whisper in his ear, and the blast of alcohol fumes made Arthur wince. "I had a couple of beers and I thought about things and I came back. I'm not drunk and I'm not stoned. Arthur?"

 

The soft cloth rubbed tenderly at his eyelids, crusted with the salt of tears. Trying to speak, Arthur found that his throat was sore. Words croaked out thick.

 

"So what, mate. You throw your tantrum and storm out and I'm supposed ta be happy you came back?"

 

The hand withdrew and Arthur opened his eyes, finding himself inches from Curt's face.

 

His lover's blue‑grey eyes were reddened, and swollen, he had clearly been crying himself.

 

"I'm sorry." Curt whispered, softer, pleading. "I'm *sorry*, lover. But I came back. That counts for something, right?" 

 

"Yeah." Sighing, Arthur uncurled with a wince and reached for the other man, pulling Curt down to lie with him. He liked this big sofa, there was room for both of them here. Wrapping his arms around Curt, he snuffled his nose into the reddish blond hair and pressed a kiss to Curt's neck before sighing again as Curt returned the embrace, hugging him back tightly.

 

"It just ‑ it makes me crazy." Curt muttered, one hand stroking restlessly up and down Arthur's back. "I mean, I called my mother. And it was good, a good call. And I felt like maybe I could get some of it back. Some life. Then I saw that picture and I could see her seein' it..."

 

He trailed off, arms tightening, and Arthur kissed his neck again.

 

"But you, man. You never do nuthin' but be nice to me." Pulling back a bit, Curt got his face real close to Arthur's, looking determined. "I won't treat you the way that shithead treated me. I *won't*. Don't you let me."

 

"Alright." Arthur half‑laughed, the determined sincerity almost amusing, but not quite, because he knew well how much Curt meant it. "I won't."

 

"C'mon." Standing, unwrapping himself from the embrace, Curt tugged at Arthur's hand and watched while he stood, knees protesting, a little shaky. "I'm gonna run you a bath."

 

"That would be nice." Gaining his feet, Arthur used both hands to clasp Curt's head, fingers burrowing in the thick hair, and pulled him in for a beer‑flavored kiss. "I *love* you, ye stupid bugger. You *should* be nicer to me."

 

"Yeah, man." Curt grinned, and his tense stance relaxed a little as Arthur waggled his head. "I'll remember next time."

 

"Okay." Turning, Arthurt headed for the bathroom, but Curt stopped him.

 

"Go get undressed, I'll call you when I'm ready?" He presented it as a question, his uncertainty revealing and Arthur stifled a sigh, realizing that his lover would need lots of reassurance for a few days. But he only nodded, and turned off into Curt's ‑ their ‑ bedroom. His own had, as he'd predicted, become an office.

 

Sitting on the bed, he stripped, and then glanced at the phone. It might be nice to call Lou and tell him everything was okay. In case he was worried or something.

 

It was surprisingly hard to pick up the phone and dial Lou's home number, which he'd had to use from work a few times, and that made him think. Five months ago he'd been living this narrow life; work, home, work, home. He seldom went out, didn't have any friends, and the people he worked with were just that. Then he'd been given that assignment...and remembered life.

 

Found a life that he'd lost. That was a better way of putting it.

 

"Hel‑lo." Lou answered his phone.

 

"Lou? It's Arthur. Look, um, Curt came home. Everything is okay."

 

"Oh, that's good. So you don't need the time off?"

 

"No. I might be a bit late in the morning, we still have some things to talk out." And they would talk, he'd make sure. 

 

"That's good." Lou repeated. "I'll see you then. We can grab lunch."

 

"That would be...good." Arthur rubbed his forehead roughly. They'd never had lunch before. Was something going on? Or was Lou just trying to be nice, a good friend? Briefly he wished he'd paid more attention to the man these past few years, so he'd be able to read him better. "Yeah."

 

"Gotta go ‑ dinner just showed up." Lou said, sounding -- pleased? -- and then he hung up, leaving Arthur to do the same, staring at the phone with trepidation.

 

"Arthur?" Curt stuck his head in and smiled at him, a bit tentatively. "You ready, man?"

 

"Yes." Standing, nude, not really excited, he followed his lover to the bathroom. Just the act of following was enough to get him turned on, as Curt was nude as well and his beautiful, perfect ass was right in front of Arthur, who freely enjoyed the sight.

 

The second bath on this main floor had a large sunken tub, and not much else. There wasn't even a working toilet in the room, and the floor was still plain plywood, stained in places from splashed water. There was a counter without a sink, and a frame without a mirror over it. 

 

But the large tub was filled with steaming hot water, and it shone with a slight coating of oil. The scent of jasmine hung in the air and Arthur sniffed appreciatively as he slid in, hissing at the heat.

 

"Too hot?" Curt reached for the taps.

 

"Just right." Arthur sighed, sinking back and holding out a hand. "Are you joining me? You're dressed for it." He smiled as gently as he could, trying to let Curt see that everything was okay, that they were fine.

 

"In a minute." Crossing to the unfinished counter, Curt pressed the play button on a tape player sitting there. The quiet sounds of acoustic guitar filled the room and Arthur sighed, closing his eyes and willing himself to relax. After a moment it was easy, the mellow sounds lilting through the space, the water cradling him, his sore throat easing as he breathed deeply through a slightly opened mouth. The thick, steamy air was soothing.

 

Then the water shifted and lapped at his chin and he felt Curt pressed to his side as his lover slid over and wrapped an arm around his waist, snuggling close as if they were in bed together. 

 

Slipping his own arm around Curt, Arthur held him, and they floated for a bit, the water cooling enough to be perfectly comfortable, and then Curt slid his free hand to Arthur's cock, which was only half‑hard, and Arthur opened his eyes to shake his head.

 

"Not now, love." Curt's brown wrinkled. "This is ‑- nice. I'd like to just lie here and hold ye for a bit, alright?" Trying to explain, Arthur was relieved to see the frown ease. 

 

"Okay, man." Propping his chin on Arthur's shoulder, Curt slid his hand down lower and gently cupped Arthur's balls, which were hanging loose and low in the heat of the water. "Whatever you want."

 

"I want to know what we're going to do about that picture." The words were out before Arthur thought them through, but Curt didn't react badly. Which was fortunate, considering what he was holding onto.

 

"I'm going to call the cops. In the morning. Tell them that Stone threatened us, that he tried to blackmail us. Then I'm going to call my lawyer and cover my ass ‑ and yours."

 

Startled by the plan, Arthur roused a bit and turned his head to look at Curt, who grinned at him.

 

"Whot?" He asked, teasing.

 

"You want to go public with everything?"

 

"I didn't do anything wrong." Curt said gruffly. "Why should I let him get away with this shit?"

 

"I love you." Arthur said, happily, feeling his won face spread into a wide grin. "I'm proud of you."

 

"I love you so fucking much, man." Suddenly Curt was climbing on top of Arthur, grabbing him in a tight, emotional hug. "I told that bastard once, I told him that he could be my main man... that he could be everything to me, replace drugs and booze. But I was wrong." he held tighter and Arthur, feeling the bruises the grip was going to leave, clung back just as tightly. "You're my main man." Curt whispered into Arthur's ear, managing to get a leg around Arthur's, wrapping himself around his lover like a blond leech. "You're all I need."

 

"Yes, love." Arthur held him, and kissed him, and waited for the silent storm to pass over them. He didn't like, too much, that Curt was comparing him to Brian, but they were the only two people Curt had ever really loved, he knew that, so comparisons were inevitable. "I've got you."

 

They held each other until the water cooled, and then climbed out together, Curt commenting that maybe it was time they got to work on this bathroom and Arthur, grinning, agreeing. He grabbed the tape deck and carried it to the bedroom with them, and then, when they were tucked up, it was dark outside, the tape still playing beside the bed, he listened a bit more and what he heard made him half‑sit, disturbing his lover.

 

"Is that you playing?"

 

Rolling over, Curt answered without opening his eyes.

 

"Yeah. Arthur, lie back down."

 

"New music?" Arthur asked, still trying to make sense of it. He hadn't realized Curt was still writing music, or playing anything.

 

"Just a little bit." Now Curt opened his eyes and glared at him. "Arthur, lie back down. How am I supposed to rest if you won't be still?"

 

"Sorry, love." Lying back, Arthur drew Curt to his side and they cuddled again. "I'm really happy that you started playing again."

 

"Never stopped." Curt was almost asleep again. "Just play something different now."

 

Arthur managed to stay awake almost to the end of the tape.


End file.
